


That's the Way Love Goes

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Voltron Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Het Relationship, Sparring, couples, lions on the astral plane, m/m relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 20:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16272122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: Inspired by a Janet Jackson song. Also: Everyone in this story is 18 or over.Intimacy is the name of the game for the Paladins of Voltron...in more ways than one.





	1. Lance & Allura: The Heart of Nobility

Their mingled scents are still drifting through the belly of the Blue Lion, and the Blue Paladins are tucked skin to skin against each other under an emergency blanket when Lance ventures a question. “So, like, if we got married,” Lance says, eliciting a surprised blink from the Altean princess, “what would my title be? Just curious, I don’t wanna be like the Supreme Magnificence or some shiz. That’s not why...y’know…” He reddens. “Look, I’m gonna stop talking now.” He tugs the blanket over his head to cover his blazing cheeks.

Allura laughs, but is heartened by the grin that creeps back onto her lover’s face as she pulls the blanket back down around them. They’ve settled it long ago that when she laughs, it’s always  _ with _ him, never  _ at _ him. “Well,  _ technically _ you’d be called the Prince Consort, if the Royal Court of Altea still existed.” She trails one almond-shaped fingernail along his collarbone, then raises her hand to his chin, pinching it gently between thumb and forefinger to bring his gaze down to hers. “And I know that’s not why we’re together,” she says softly. Her gaze breaks away from his, and she colors slightly. “I’ve...been with someone who sought my company just for that reason. It made me feel worthless.” She raises her head again to look him straight in the eye. “This feels  _ right _ .”

The connection both of them have as Blue Lion Paladins shimmers between them, their affection for one another whispering in their minds between heartbeats. Blue’s presence around them is affirming, welcoming, with a distinct air of pleasure at how her cubs have gravitated toward each other, and now find solace and companionship within her. The two Paladins share a long embrace, reminding themselves with kisses and caresses that  _ yes, this is indeed right _ .

When they part, Allura’s eyes are dancing and Lance’s cheeks are flushed. “I wish you still had a kingdom,” Lance tells her, smoothing the bright pink mark on her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “You’d make a great Empress.”

Allura smiles. “The only place I want to rule is here,” she remarks, moving her hand to his chest. “I don’t need a planet or a star system to be subject to me. I don’t need accolades or tributes.” She lays her hand against his cheek, and he leans into her, his eyes drifting shut. “I just need you to love me, Lance. That’s all.”

His teasing expression is nowhere to be found in this moment, and her breath catches as she sees a glimpse of the huge heart behind his bravado. “That’s all I want to do,” he breathes, “if you’ll let me.”

It’s as a woman and not a princess that she answers. “Always,” she assures him, and lets herself melt into his arms again.


	2. Shiro & Keith: Break Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith work out their differences by sparring...which turns in a slightly different direction than they intended.

The Black Paladins have many moods; chief among them are determination, focus, and an all-or-nothing attitude. They are also encouraging, supportive, and long-suffering with each other as well as to those dear to them.

Less frequently, they can both be exasperated, fed up, and overwhelmed by all that’s pressed upon them and expected of them.

Rarely, they can be savage, ruthless, out for blood, unsatisfied with anything less than total dominance.

Today, it’s this last that drives them both to the sparring ring, seething and snarling at each other for too many slights and second-guesses, both real and imagined.  

Keith has stripped to his black arming tunic and leggings, his feet in sturdy, lightweight boots that flex nimbly with his every step.  His hair is caught back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck, exposing his muscled shoulders. His violet eyes bore into the man opposite him, the instincts given him by his warrior mother sharpening his senses until he can hear Shiro’s breathing as if it’s right in his ear. Shiro’s scent is beginning to tug at Keith’s nostrils, heightened by heat and tension. Normally this would drive him to some shameless act, letting himself be utterly spent upon the man who shares his Lion and his bed, but right now, all Keith can think about is wiping the floor with Takashi Shirogane.

“Are we gonna do this, or what?” Shiro snarls, his grey eyes sparking. His own chest is bare, but he too wears the leggings that are usually part of his arming rig, along with his own pair of sturdy footwear that gives him perfect traction against the slick mat.

“Still time to back out,” Keith purrs.

Shiro utters a bark of mirthless laughter. “I don't think so, buddy boy.”  Without further preamble, Shiro launches himself at Keith, but the Blade of Marmora isn’t there when Shiro arrives. Keith hurls himself backward, landing lightly on his hands and springing backwards into a crouch just out of Shiro’s reach. Shiro tucks and rolls, but Keith jumps up and to the side, neatly avoiding Shiro’s grabbing hands.

With a growl of frustration, Shiro halts his progress by digging his fingers into the mat and slewing around to face the way he came. He glares at Keith, who is executing a graceful set of back handsprings to put himself well out of Shiro’s reach. Tugging himself up onto his feet, Shiro runs at Keith again, his prosthetic hand glowing with a hot violet light. Keith’s eyes narrow and he produces his wicked blade from its sheath on his thigh. Sparks fly as he brings the blade down with a sharp, heavy clang on the tough metal limb.

“Lucky for you it’s metal,” Keith growls, pressing his blade against the arm to keep the glowing knife-like fingers away from him.

“Yeah, lucky for me,” Shiro pants, twisting away from the razor-sharp blade. “Not so lucky for you.”

Keith paces in front of Shiro, matching him lunge for lunge, step for step. “How do you figure?”

“At least I won’t hurt my hand beating your ass,” retorts the first Black Lion Paladin.

“So you like it rough, eh?” Keith taunts him, feinting with the knife.

“You should know,” Shiro shoots back. “Come on, Keith. Stop fucking around and hit me.”

“With pleasure.” Keith’s grin turns feral, and time begins to blur as he brings all of his training to bear on his opponent. Sparks continue to fly, the blade swings down again and again only to be blocked by the prosthetic. His mother’s blood sings in his veins as Keith watches Shiro carefully, stalking him, hunting him to the point where Shiro’s body begins to betray him. Sweat drips from the snowy forelock, and the broad chest is heaving with exertion. Keith feels his own body beginning to flag as well, but his slighter frame as well as his half-alien heritage means that his stamina is not quite gone.

Ignoring the way that Shiro’s scent is making his groin tighten, Keith launches himself for one final attack, leaping with his blade driving downward in a two-handed grip. Shiro moves back to evade--and trips, grunting as he lands heavily on his back. The second Black Paladin lands astride Shiro on knees and one hand, deftly switching his grip so that the edge of his blade pinks the skin directly under Shiro’s jaw. Blood trickles, mingling with the sweat. Their eyes lock.

“Are we  _ done? _ ” Keith grits.

Shiro holds his gaze for a moment more, then looks away. “Yeah.”

Feeling every modicum of his Galra heritage, Keith rocks back on his heels, considering the man before him for a long moment before wiping the blade on his thigh and replacing the knife in its sheath. Now he knows why the Galra Empire considers Shiro to be so dangerous: Shiro  _ will not stop  _ until he’s dead.

As soon as the blade is in place, a horrifying realization tumbles over him, showing him what he could have done, what his instincts were telling him to do, until the smell of Shiro’s blood woke him from his deadly purpose. 

Keith gets to his feet and walks a few steps away, unable to face that open, trusting gaze. “Are  _ we _ done?” he asks, hating how his voice breaks on the second word.

Behind him, Shiro’s boots drag across the mat, and when he speaks, his confusion is clear. “Why would you think that?”

Keith still can’t look at him. “I could have killed you.”

The first Black Paladin sighs. “That’s ridiculous. We just needed to get some stuff out from between us.”

Keith hugs his elbows to his slender frame. “You shouldn’t trust me, Shiro.”

In the span of two heartbeats, Shiro is standing in front of him. “Keith, someone told me something long ago, and I believe it. They told me that ‘mistrust is exhausting, and love makes a choice.’” He shrugs. “I  _ choose _ to trust you.” He raises his prosthetic hand to caress Keith’s face. “I _ choose _ to  _ love _ you. No amount of throwing each other around in this place will change that.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, flicking the droplets onto the mat for the auto-sanitizer to clean after they’ve left the room. “We’re under a lot pressure. It’s got to come off somewhere.”

“You mean, somewhere else besides your bed,” Keith quips.

Shiro laughs, turning pleasingly pink about the ears. “I admit, that’s a lot more fun.” He wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, drawing them together. “What do you say?” He tucks an escaped lock of Keith’s hair back behind an ear. “Let’s trade one venue for another.”

His lover’s scent is so powerful this close, Keith isn’t sure if he’d still be standing were it not for Shiro’s arms around him. “I just want to be with you,” he whispers.

In answer, Shiro takes Keith’s hand and brushes a kiss against his knuckles. “Come on, then.”

And with that, the Black Paladins are of one heart and mind once again.


	3. Hunk & Pidge: Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loneliness is easier to bear with someone to share the load.

The rest of the castle is asleep, drifting among the stars in a smooth ribbon of perpetual night. Those who are alone sleep deeply, dreaming of home, of family, of friendly faces. Those who share a lover’s bed pass the night in quiet sighs and silent touches, fond caresses and fingers that clutch at the sheets as their bodies move together.

Deep inside the castle, Hunk sits in the cockpit of the Yellow Lion, the readouts flashing on his tanned face and dancing in his whiskey-brown eyes. The Golden Lioness surrounds him with affection, like a proud mother looking on at her beloved cub, and Hunk sighs in contentment. When all else is wrong, in this space, everything is right.

Not that anything’s  _ wrong _ , exactly, but tonight has found him in an unusual mood. Things just bead up and roll right off him, normally, but for some reason his heart aches. It’s rare, and Hunk has no idea what to do with it, so he’s brought his heart to Yellow to see what she could do.

He lays his head back against the seat, a small smile playing about his lips. Here, he feels needed, a part of something bigger and better than himself. The raw power of his Lion’s cannon overwhelms him, sending him on wings of  _ yes _ and  _ good _ and  _ meant to be _ . He is Yellow and she is him, in each other’s minds and hearts. Even when he’s not in battle, he can feel her connection, like molten gold, living sunlight that dances between his fingertips and at the edges of his vision.

That connection is why he’s here, eschewing precious sleep in order to simply  _ feel _ .  He lets his eyes drift shut, smiling as Yellow curls a tendril of comfort around him, unaware of the silent conversation going on just over his head.

*****

Green stirs at her sister’s touch.  _ Look at my cub, _ Yellow purrs.  _ Happy. Safe. _

_ Mine as well,  _ Green replies, reaching out to the sleeping mind of her Paladin.

Yellow thinks a moment, her ersatz tail lazily drifting back and forth on the astral plane where they lounge among the stars.  _ Cubs friends,  _ she muses.  _ Harmony. _

_ Yes,  _ says Green, as her Paladin rolls over, hugging a pillow and mumbling.  _ Good together. Team. _

_ Together?  _ Yellow suggests.

_ Yes. Good.  _  Green reaches out a paw and gently pats her Paladin’s emerald conscience.  _ Wake! _

Green’s Paladin burrows deeper into the covers and emits a soft snore. Yellow is amused.  _ I will wake, _ she says, and sends a picture of her own Paladin, glowing like citrine, into the mind of Green’s cub.

_ Will it work?  _ Asks Green.

_ Yes,  _ says Yellow, all shrewd anticipation.  _ Wait and see. _

*****

“Hunk.”

Pidge wakes herself up speaking his name to her empty room.  _ Dreaming, _ she thinks.  _ I must have been dreaming. _  The face of the Yellow Paladin is clear in her mind, as if she’d taken a photograph of his sleeping face and imprinted it on her brain.

There’s more to it than just a dream, though, and she feels a vague sense of unease as she tries to roll over and go back to sleep.  Hunk’s image will not fade, and at length she gives in to scuff her feet into her Lion slippers. Padding down the hallway, she knocks softly at his door. “Hunk, you in there?”  She presses the door panel gently, letting it slide open just a crack--and then lets it slide all the way back to reveal that the room is empty.

“Guess not,” she addresses the neatly made bed and carefully preserved knicknacks from his island home. The only other two places (well, beside the head) he can be is the kitchen or down at the hangar, so she checks the first one only to find it dark.  Someone is rummaging in the fridge, though, and a glint of light from a headful of copper hair lets her know that it’s Coran, no doubt sleep-eating again. She decides against waking him with a mouthful of food goo and moves on down toward the hangar.

The presence of the Lions washes over her like a rainbow wave, bringing a smile to Pidge’s lips in the echoing, silent chamber. Here is not only the smell of grease and oil and whatever it is that keeps these sentient machines running, but the feeling of welcome, of belonging. The silent, potent presence of Black, his shadowy form towering over all; the hot, bright flicker of Red, never far from him; the cool sleek presence of Blue; and finally the bright promise of Yellow and the verdant mystery of Green--all note her progress toward the metallic form of Yellow, even as she detours to give Green a fond pat on her massive paw.

In just a moment, Pidge has ascended the elevator in Yellow’s frame up to the cockpit, and she approaches the pilot’s seat with a curious frown. “Hey, Hunk,” she ventures, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Wha?” Hunk comes awake, wiping drool off his chin with the cuff of his shirt. “Oh. Heya, Pidge.”  He rubs his eyes. “What are you doing up at this hour?” he asks around a huge yawn.

“I could ask the same of you,” she quips. “You planning on staying up here all night?”

Hunk smiles and runs a hand over the controls. “Not planning on it, but I guess I sort of am.”  He rolls his head to the side to fix Pidge with the smile that hasn’t dimmed. “It’s nice that you’re here, though.”

Pidge returns the smile. “Yeah. It’s nice being here.”  She makes a shooing motion. “Scoot over, big guy.”

“Uh, Pidge,” Hunk begins warily. “I don’t think this seat’s big enough  _ okay  _ so it is.”

“One of the advantages of being puny,” she remarks, settling herself comfortably with her legs over his lap, fully aware of the blush that’s staining his cheeks. “I fit anywhere.”

“Yeah, okay.” Hunk tries in vain to wiggle out from under her legs, and eventually gives up to rest his massive hands on her bare ankles. “Wow,” he muses, taking off one of her slippers. “You have really small feet.”

“Hey, my foot’s cold,” she protests, then settles back as he gently takes first one foot, then another in his hands and rubs out tension she didn’t even know was there. By the time he’s done, she’s halfway asleep, and Hunk isn’t blushing anymore.

Pidge opens her eyes and glances up at Hunk, whose own gaze is half-lidded and far away. She reaches up and touches his cheek, and he turns to look at her, still sloe-eyed like a contented feline.

With very little effort, Hunk reaches down and pulls PIdge into his lap, her ankles on either side of his hips. Some corner of her brain registers that her own breath is coming quicker, and there are currents in the space that she’s only briefly noticed before, if she felt them at all. She reaches up and takes Hunk’s face in her hands, her thumbs stroking the mahogany brown skin, her amber eyes looking down into his, which are just a shade darker.

Normally, Pidge thinks, this would be the moment when someone (probably Lance) would walk in, and they would spring apart like two teenagers caught necking at a dance. However, there’s no one here--no one except the two of them and the quiet simmering presence of the Lions--and so Pidge tips down and brushes Hunk’s lips with her own.

*****

For an instant, Hunk freezes, but then his arms are around her, keeping her from tipping backwards onto the floor, and their kiss deepens with each heartbeat. Hunk wonders if Pidge--if Katie--has ever kissed anyone, but decides it’s not an important detail. She’s here now, and she’s kissing him, and who cares about anything or anyone else. Voltron, the Galra, intergalactic war, the fact that they’re millions of miles from home and could get blasted into space dust tomorrow--it all falls away so that every molecule of his being is centered on how his mouth presses and slides and searches against hers.

Despite his efforts to be a gentleman, Hunk finds his hands beginning to wander up Pidge’s sides, then forward to cup her compact breasts in his hands. He smiles against her mouth; each one would barely fill a teacup, but they still feel warm and heavy against his palms. A harsh intake of breath from Pidge lets him know that they may be small, but they respond just the way they should, and she growls low in her throat as his fingers pluck gently at her nipples through her pajamas.

“I’ll stop if you want me to,” he murmurs against her cheek, but she wraps her arms around him and draws him even closer.

“No,” she says, her alto voice going even throatier. “I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

“Same goes for me,” he replies, as his own body lets him know it approves of what he’s doing to her.

“Fair enough.”

Hunk’s hands move away just long enough for Pidge to pull off her pajama top, and her slight form shines with golden light from the holographic displays. Once again, she leans forward to kiss him, and now his fingertips play up her spine, feeling her vertebrae under the smooth skin. Pidge gives an involuntary shiver, and snakes a hand between them to search down the slope of his belly to the spot of warmth that’s pressed up against her. Now it’s Hunk’s turn to gasp and squirm, and Pidge gives a delighted chuckle.

“I know,” Hunk says with a sigh, “I need to lay off the food goo.”

Pidge stops his words with her lips. “You’re just fine,” she counters.

“I’m not an Adonis like Shiro, or a greyhound like Keith and Lance,” he muses, his blush returning.

“No,” Pidge agrees. She plays her fingers along his length again, which shuts him up. “But if you care to notice, I’m here with  _ you.” _

A smile dawns on his face; he hates to admit it, but he truly hadn’t thought about it that way until just now. “I’m glad you’re here.”

And for the next long while, they set about proving that very fact to each other--that they are glad for the other’s presence, not only in this space but the danger of their everyday lives together. When they are spent and tangled in each other’s arms, having moved from the precarious pilot’s seat to the floor, both can feel the Lions’ consciousness fade like a rainbow after a storm.

The castle sails on in the endless night of space, a ship of dreams ferrying them to their destinies.

\--End--


End file.
